Oldfatfool did make it, so it was him, me, Pennine-Paul, and my pal Carrie who set off in fine sunny conditions. Bill caught up with us at Colden, after the initial steep climb.
As usual, P-P was riding fixed. He flipped his wheel for a higher gear for the long descent into Burnley, and flipped it back again later when the climbing felt too hard.
We stuck together round to Waddington. Bill had to get back so he left us at Country Kitchen and rode home solo. The rest of us had a leisurely stop, sitting out front in the sunshine.
There were a few idiots out on the road back from Burnley, including one muscular tattooed thuggish young man who leaned out of the passenger window of a car as it passed me, and screamed 'F***ing w**ker!' into my right ear. I decided not to let it bother me. Instead, I imagined standing in front of him and telling him to look up, whereupon a Monty Python-like 10 ton weight dropped down and flattened him. Eat that, meathead!
We left Paul having a pint in Todmorden, and o.f.f. left Carrie and me in Hebden Bridge, continuing on towards Mytholmroyd for a lift home. We remaining 2 riders went to HB's pedestrianised area and enjoyed more coffee and shared some yummy parkin.
63 sunny miles/101 km, so a good metric century.
Thanks for the company!
